


Snowed In

by MaeveBran



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeveBran/pseuds/MaeveBran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jo and Henry are snowed in in a cabin. Their relationship takes on a whole new dimension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowed In

Detective Jo Martinez pulled the car up to the cabin just as the snow began to fall in near white out conditions. She had known the trip up state to interview a witness would be risky with the weather forecast being what it was. Fortunately, she and Dr. Henry Morgan had gotten the information they needed and were able to make it here before the snow got too bad. 

The cabin had been a vacation place for her and her late husband. She knew there was a chance they'd not get back to the city today so she'd brought the key and a box of supplies with them. She hadn't been back since her husband had passed away. She had never thought to come back. Some days she thought of selling the place but today she was glad she hadn't made any decisions.

“Whose place is this?” Henry asked.

“Mine,” Jo answered as she got out and unlocked the place. “My husband and I bought it when he was made junior partner at his firm five years ago.” She opened the door and turned on the lights. “Looks like we still have power, at least for now.”

Henry followed her in and looked around while she went back out to the car for the box of supplies. The cabin was small and cozy. A main room that was a kitchen, living room and dining room combined. A small love seat and two armchairs flanked a small fire place made up the living room portion of the cabin. The dinning area was an oak table with two chairs and enough room for only two place setting. The kitchen had both an electric range and a wood stove.

Henry had gotten as far as the small hallway with two doors in it when Jo reappeared with her box. She started unpacking- a couple cans of chili and other foods. She also pulled out a fresh bar of soap and a roll of toilet paper.

“It's been almost a year and a half since we were up here last,” Jo said as she put the soap and tp in the bathroom, the room off the side of the hall. “There is a lady from town who comes and checks on the place once a month but I wasn't sure what we left up here and I didn't want to be caught unprepared.”

“That was wise of you,” Henry said. He poked his head into the other room. It was a bedroom with a small wood stove, two dressers, an armchair and a queen sized sleigh bed. That was it. He tried not think about sleeping arrangements. That was thoughts for hours from now.

Henry wandered back to the main room. Jo was just hanging up from a phone call.

“I called and let the Lieutenant know I'd not be in till the snow lets up, and reported what we learned,” Jo said. “They'll make the arrest as soon as the warrant is issued.” She gestured with the phone. “Do you want to call Abe and let him know you won't be home?”

“I should,” Henry agreed. “He worries.”

“Must be nice to have a room mate who cares so much,” Jo said wistfully.

“Oh, Abe is more than a room mate,” Henry said as he took the phone from her.

After he called and let Abe know he was stranded with Jo, (and Abe had reminded him to use protection and wasn't that a trip having his son give him sexual advice, not that he'd need it,) Henry handed the phone back to her. He walked to the fireplace and built a fire.  
“How do you know how to do that?” Jo asked. “Is it a guy thing? My husband was always the one who made the fires.”

“I was raised in a cabin very similar to this,” Henry said as he set back and watched the fire catch on the kindling. “Only without the electricity and running water.”

“In England? I thought that they were as up to date as we are here,” Jo said.

“In Wales, actually,” Henry said, trying to think how to get out of this one. He sometimes forgot himself around this woman and let clues to his secret fall around her. One of these days she would put it all together and he'd have to move on. “Some of the mountain communities are rather remote.”

The power flickered. “I'd better get the fire in the other stoves going,” Henry said as he stood and made his way to the kitchen. 

It only took him a few minutes and there was a fire in the stove and a kettle on to boil. The power went out for good about that time.

“Tea?” Jo asked as the kettle whistled.

“Please,” he replied.

Jo grabbed the box of tea bags from the cupboard, pleased to see they were still intact.

“I'm afraid it is Earl Grey from a tea bag,” she teased. 

“It will suffice,” he replied.

She brought two mugs over to the sitting area. She sat down on the love seat and Henry took one of the arms chairs. She handed him his mug and they sat in silence for a few minutes. The crackle and flicker of the flames relaxing them into a near trance like state.

“You and Abe aren't a couple are you?” Jo asked, out of the blue.

“What?!” Henry exclaimed as she had startled him out of the memories he'd been lost in.

“You and Abe? Are you a couple?” she repeated. “You said he was more than a room mate. Sometimes I see you guys being more affectionate than an honorary uncle and nephew when I'm walking up to the store and you aren't expecting me.”

“No, Abe and I are not a couple,” Henry said emphatically. He drained his tea and set the mug on the coffee table.

“So what is Abe to you?” Jo asked, determined to get the straight story from Henry. It's not like there would be much else to do. The cabin was isolated and the snow was falling heavily now. She doubted they'd be going anywhere for the next few days. “When I asked you guys at dinner that night, you hemmed and hawed and tried to get the other to explain. It was like you two were trying to cover something up. If it isn't that you're lovers, what is it?”

“You're not going to let this go, are you?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said. “We've got plenty of time and I want to know the whole story.”

Henry walked over to the kitchen and looked through the cupboards. He eventually found what he'd been looking for – a couple of nearly full bottles of whiskey. He grabbed one and took it back with him to the sitting area. He sat down and poured himself a healthy dose of the stuff. He held the bottle to Jo in question. She pulled the teabag out of her empty mug and held the mug to him. He poured her a similarly generous amount of the amber liquid.

“First off, I'm going to need you to swear you won't think I'm crazy, and if you do think that you won't have me committed,” Henry said after he took a drink of the liquid courage in his mug.

“I have heard you say many crazy things in the last couple months,” she said evenly. “I doubt there'd be anything you could say that would be crazy enough for me to call the men in white coats.”

“You may change your mind,” he muttered. He drained his mug of whiskey and forced himself to tell her. “Abe is my son.”

She looked at him. Her mouth working but nothing came out. She took a sip of the whiskey and sputtered. “Your son?”

“Adopted, but my son none the less,” Henry said evenly.

“I'm going to need more than that,” Jo eventually said. “How? He's seventy and you're thirty-five.”

“I'm actually two hundred and thirty-five, Jo,” Henry said. 

Jo set her mug down and stared at Henry. He was serious about his confession. He was looking at her like he was waiting for her to denounce him and shrink away. That attitude of fear was what convinced her what he said was true. It was like he was waiting for her to call the men in white coats to take him away. 

The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Suddenly the little comments about not being afraid of heights but a rather more complicated relationship with death made sense. As did his comments about the brownstones being recent and the August when so many had died from heat stroke in that neighborhood. He knew these things because he was there. Then there were the repeated comments about living long enough to learn things or to see things happen. It made sense now and now that she was considering the amount of sense he was making it started her questioning her own sanity.

“What are you thinking?” Henry asked, not liking the amount of time it was taking her to say something.

“I may need to call the funny farm,” she answered.

“Please don't,” he asked. “I'm not sure I can stand it, again.”

“You didn't let me finish,” she said. He nodded for her to continue. “I may need to call for myself, since I believe you.”  
“You believe me?” Henry asked, astonished. The few people he had told, it usually took longer for it to sink in.

“I believe you,” Jo said. “So can you die? Or have you just lived a long time with out dying?”

“Oh, I die,” he said. “I feel every excruciating second of every death. I just don't stay dead. I end up in the nearest large body of water, naked after every time.”

“Hence the complicated relationship with death,” she said. 

“What?” he asked.

“You once said that to me when I asked about whether you feared death,” she replied.

“I did?” he said. “That wasn't very discreet of me.”

“Have you died since we've been working together?” she asked despite herself. She was curious but was sure this wasn't the question one should ask one's partner who just revealed himself to be an immortal.

“I have,” he said. 

“How many times?” she asked.

“Including the subway crash that started it all,” he said. “Five times.”

“Five times? In three months?” she exclaimed.

“Yes,” he answered calmly.

“And I didn't know,” she said. “That's why you try to get between me and the gun.”

“I'll come back, you won't,” Henry said. “I couldn't live with myself for the rest of my long life if I let you die when I could take the bullet for you.”

Henry stood and walked over to the kitchen and lit some lanterns. He opened the cans of chili and put them in a pan on the stove. The conversation had turned too personal for him and he had to do something before he confessed all. Only Abe and Abigail had known his secrets and been so understanding. Even they had taken more time to believe him.

They ate and played cards for awhile. Then it was getting quite late. Jo yawned.

“I think it is bed time for me,” she said as she placed her dishes in the sink.

“I'll go light the fire in the stove for you,” Henry said as he followed her to the kitchen area. “If I could trouble you for some spare blankets, I can bed down in front of the fire out here.”

“The thing is,” she said as she turned to him. “This cabin was our romantic get away. There are no spare blankets.”  
“Then I'll just stoke the fire better,” Henry said as he went back over to the sitting area.

“Or you could share the bed with me,” Jo invited. “I don't bite.”

“Neither do I,” he said as he stirred down the coals.

He joined her in the bedroom and made up the fire. When he was done, he turned around and found her holding out a pair of sweat pants and thermal shirt to him.

“I found some of my husband's clothes,” she said. “If you want to change into something more comfortable.”

She took her own pajamas and walked out of the room.

Henry took the opportunity to take her advice and changed into the more comfortable clothes. He folded his suit and hung it over the back of the arm chair. He looked around the room waiting for her to get back. There were pictures of Jo and her husband scattered over the dressers- a wedding picture, one here at the cabin at Christmas, and one of her husband hold a large fish. It was clear they had been happy.

Jo came back in and placed her clothes on the dresser. She picked up the Christmas picture. After a moment she put it down.

“That was Christmas two years ago,” she said. “We came up here and got snowed in then too.” 

“I imagine this is really hard for you,” Henry said. 

“Not as hard as it would be if I were here alone,” Jo said as she slipped into the bed.

“I'll be right back,” he said as he went to the bathroom.

Jo looked at the other side of the bed. Was this really happening? Was she going to sleep with Henry, even if it was in the most literal definition of sleep? It had been since her husband since she had just slept with a man and felt comfort from the presence of another human next to her. Sure there had been a few drunken one night stands but those hadn't been as intimate as this. This was consciously deciding to sleep next to someone, not just falling asleep after sex and wondering who they were. This was knowing Henry and his secrets and getting close, as least physically.

Henry walked in and sat down on the other side of the bed. He wasn't sure he was ready for this. Not that he had much choice. He pulled back his side of the covers and slid in next to her. He lay stiffly on his back, as far from her as he could manage. He was counting to one hundred, slowly in his head, and slowing his breathing. He reached fifty before she spoke.

“Been awhile,” Jo asked. “Since you slept with anyone?”

“Since Abigail,” Henry confirmed.

“How long ago was that?” she asked. Everything about his story aroused her curiosity.

“She left me twenty five years ago,” he answered.

“Why did she leave?” she asked. 

“It was getting harder on her,” he said. “I was still thirty five and she was almost seventy. People had gone beyond teasing her about her younger man to assuming I was her son. She left to preserve my secret.”

“So she's not dead,” Jo said.

“She could be,” Henry answered. “I have never gone looking.”

“Where does Abe fit in?” she asked, the dark intimacy of the room was making the questions she had easier to ask.

“He was a baby found in one of the German Concentration camps without family. I met Abigail, who was a nurse, when she brought him over to be examined before he was sent to the orphanage. When we married, Abigail and I adopted him.” Henry said. It was easier to answer her questions in the dark.

“Was she the one who gave you the watch?” she asked.

“She was,” he said. “I was the doctor on the ship it had originally belonged to. When I told Abigail about it, she sought out the watch and got it back for me for our twenty fifth anniversary.”

“How did you lose it to begin with?” she queried. The watch, being the instrument of their acquaintance, fascinated her. The story of it, she was sure, was important.

“That is the story of the scar,” Henry said. “I pronounced a slave to be just suffering a fever but the captain wouldn't hear of it. He feared Cholera so he had the man thrown overboard, because, after all, the slave was just property. When I tried to stop it, he shot me and tossed me overboard as well. The watch fell out of my pocket. That was the first time I was killed and the only one to leave a scar.”

“What year was that?” her curiosity not nearly appeased, yet.

“April 7, 1814,” he answered. “It took me a year to get back to my wife, Nora. She had been told I had fallen over board and had gone into mourning for me and had my gravestone place over an empty grave. She was so happy to see me.”

“I'll bet,” Jo said. “I'm not sure what I'd do if my husband walked back into our apartment tomorrow.”

“Would you believe him if he told you he was immortal?” Henry asked. 

“I'm not sure,” she answered. “I take it Nora didn't believe you.”

“No,” he said. “I was going to prove it but then she said she believed me.”

“And you never proved it to her?” Jo asked, sure that this was the pain he tried to hide.

“I never got the chance,” he replied. “She had me carted off to Bedlam, Bethlam Royal Hospital, in a straight jacket.”

“You really meant that you've had enough of padded white rooms didn't you?” she asked. She turned on her side to face him.

“Bedlam didn't have padded white rooms,” he gave an involuntary shudder as he remembered the squalid conditions of the hospital. It had been falling down and little better than a dungeon where he'd been on display. “I've be committed several times. Once they experimented on me and drained my blood to see if they could find the secret to immortality. Another time they removed all my organs to study. Both those resulted in my death and disappearance. Yet another time I was hung for heresy. I also spent some of the nineteen thirties in a padded room.”

“I won't joke about it again,” she solemnly promised. She reached a hand out and placed it on his shoulder. 

“You really believe me?” he asked, shocked. “Why? When you haven't seen me die and come back?”

“I may not have seen you actually die, but I did find your watch on the subway car where no one survived and then I saw you fall off a building, no matter that you tried to persuade me that it was a morphine hallucination. Though I know you couldn't have actually survived those encounters you are still here,” she explained. “And like I said earlier, it makes sense of things I've seen you do and heard you say.”

“Thank you,” he said. He reached a hand up to cover the one on his shoulder. They fell asleep like that.

 

The weak morning light flittered through the curtain and woke Jo. She found herself wrapped in strong arms and pulled tight to Henry. Somehow in the night they had turned and Henry had pulled her in to the spoon position. It was strange just how comfortable she was. She hoped he didn't wake for a while. It felt good to be held again, though if it went beyond holding, that would be alright with her, too. In fact, she thought the good doctor was quite attractive, though she tried not to dwell. Thinking those thoughts made her job that much tougher, but here in bed with nothing to do for a few days as the snow fell, well those thoughts began to fill her mind.

Henry woke slowly. His first thought was that Abigail must have returned to him as he had a woman in his arms again. Then he smelled her hair. It was Detective Martinez in his arms. He knew he should let go. This would get awkward really soon but for now he was enjoying the contact with another human. He had convinced himself that he didn't need anyone in his life but his son. Waking up like this made a liar out of him. He needed a woman in his life and he was becoming increasingly convinced that only this woman would do. Apparently his lower anatomy agreed as it let its thought on the subject be known. Reluctantly, Henry eased away from her. He didn't want the embarrassing conversation that would ensue if Jo felt it.

“Henry,” Jo began. “You don't have to go.”

“Yes, I do,” he answered as he slid from the bed, keeping the covers down and not letting in more cold air than he had to. “Before I embarrass both of us.” He slipped out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

Jo waited for him to come back, but when she heard the sound of him lighting the cook stove, she eased out of the bed herself. She paused in the bathroom on her way to the kitchen. When she got there, the kettle was on and beginning to steam.

“Tea?” he asked as she opened the cupboard by the sink.

“Nope,” she said as she pulled down a box of Swiss Miss packets. “On a snow morning like this, only hot cocoa will do.” She poured the contents of one of the packets into a mug. “Care to join me?”

“Sounds good,” he replied. Hot cocoa wasn't normally his dink of choice, but somehow it seemed right on a snow day like today. It reminded him of those rare days when Abe, as a child, had had school off due to snow and he and Abigail could stay home with him. They'd make snowmen and snow angels and when cold and wet but happy, they'd troop back to their apartment, Abigail would fix hot cocoa.

His memories were interrupted when Jo sidled up to him with a steaming mug. She got into his personal space and handed him the drink. She leaned up and whispered in his ear.

“I wouldn't have said no, Henry,” she said and moved a step away.

He put his drink down. She wouldn't have said no to what? Then it occurred to him. In bed, if had, to use the current vernacular, made his move, she wouldn't have said no.

“But would you have said yes?” he asked.

“I thought that was obvious,” Jo replied. “Yes, I would have said yes.”

She drank her cocoa. It was the right temperature now. It reminded her of snow days with her parents and later here at the cabin with her husband. Maybe it was to soon to start a full fledged relationship, and with Henry there would be no friends with benefits. He seemed old fashioned like that. Well not seemed, he was old fashioned like that. Did he even believe in sex outside of marriage? And how the hell was she going to ask that question?

“Jo, I'm not a prude,” he said. He raised his mug to his lips and sipped as he watched her process that. “I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'm the least judgmental person you'll ever meet.”

“Being unjudgmental and doing things that others could judge are two different things,” she returned.

“Well then let me put it this way,” he set his mug down and reached for hers. He set it next to his and took her in his arms and kissed her.


End file.
